The Hundred Years' Bore
by sockfoot
Summary: The guys join Joan of Arc's army. Sam/Fred. Takes place when the guys are 16-ish. Rated for swearing and/or violence. CHAPTER 4 UP FINALLY UGH
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Drop a review and let me know what you think, and if I should continue this. I won't continue it if I don't get any reviews. Do I need to tell you that I don't own this?

* * *

"Dude, put the book down. It's Friday afternoon, officially the weekend. No homework allowed." No way was I going to let Sam ruin my weekend with his "study session" crap.

"Fred," Sam began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "As much as I'd like to relax, we have that History exam first thing Monday morning. And, let's face it; you and Joe don't know anything about the Hundred Years' War. I'd be more than happy to help you out."

Joe looked between us, not sure if he wanted to contribute to the conversation yet.

Wait, history? No thanks. I wasn't in the mood for warping. On our last trip a month ago, I'd broken my arm in Mesopotamia and I had to miss basketball tryouts.

"This isn't about laziness, Sam." I explained. "Every single time we talk about history or do history homework or whatever, that fucking book shows up out of nowhere and we're somewhere else. This has been going on for years, and I'm still not used to it. I usually love that kind of stuff, but I don't want to fight cavemen or Red Coats or Indians today."

"Actually, the politically correct term is 'Native Americans'." He informed me matter-of-factly. Did he listen to a word I just said, or was he just waiting for an opportunity to correct me?

"C'mon, seriously?"

"Well, yes. I wouldn't feel comfortable with you using any offensive-"

"Jesus, man. Shut up. I am so sick of you talking to me like I'm stupid. We're on the same level, okay? We're equals. So quit being such a condescending asshole." Whoops. I snapped. I hadn't meant to raise my voice, but I was almost shouting.

Joe, recognizing his duty as referee, finally spoke up. "Listen, Fred, the fact is, we don't know what triggers the warping. It's happened sometimes when we weren't talking about history at all. So it would be really cool if you apologized to Sam. That was kind of rude of you to say. He's the one trying to help you, after all."

Sam just blinked behind his glasses, eyes on the floor. Jeez. He almost looked hurt.

"Fine." I said eventually. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam didn't say anything. He was still squinting at the floor. "Sam? I said I'm sorry. Come on, don't be a jerk."

"Uh, guys…?"

I followed Sam's gaze toward the floor under Joe's bed, where a little wisp of vapor was barely visible. I knew what was coming.

"Shit."

There was no use in running. The foggy, greenish mist leaked out from under the bed and formed little clouds around our ankles. Then, quick as anything, we were gone.

There was a split second, as there always is, when we're between two places, when we're just nowhere at all. (I always hate that split second. I hate being nowhere. I'd rather be a million years from home than nowhere at all.) But it was quickly over, and we were sitting on the ground under a tree. I could see a village nearby.

Joe and Sam didn't move or speak for a moment. I think they were waiting for my reaction. I slowly turned to Sam. I wonder what my expression looked like, because it scared the shit out of him. He started crawling away backwards, eyes wide, anticipating a punch in the face. Oh jeez.

I felt my face soften. "Sam, I'm not going to hurt you. Relax."

He did, but I could tell he was still thinking about running away as fast as his scrawny legs could take him.

"Chill, Sam," Joe muttered. "Let's just figure out where we are, get the book, and get out."

We wandered into the nearby village and went searching for some new clothes. We'd learned, after a few years of warping, that it's best to blend in. We managed to find a nice seamstress and bought some clothes with the money Joe had earned from his street performing. We went back to the tree to change. I was less than pleased with our disguises.

"No way. I am not wearing that."

Colored panty hose. COLORED PANTY HOSE. That's…ugh. No way. No way in a million years.

"Look, Fred, I know it seems odd, but this was the style." Sam assured me. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he examined his own doublet. "By the looks of it, I'd say we're in France somewhere around the 1400's."

I grumbled to myself as I put on the stupid things, followed by a doublet and a nasty tunic. "We're in the 1400's. Of course we are."

At least Sam and Joe had to look stupid, too. That provided some consolation. Also, Sam is the skinniest, so he had to wear the smallest, tightest set of panty hose. The sight was entertaining, to say the least.

Once we got changed and had a while to wander around the village, I was feeling much better. Even though I hadn't wanted to leave my own cozy little century, I was having fun exploring and meeting different people from different times.

I told myself not to have fun. The little Sam part of my brain told me that it was dangerous in this time and I should just help find the book. But since when do I listen to the real Sam, let alone my conscience?

About five minutes later, I was enjoying a pint of ale. And by "enjoying", I mean "chugging". Sam shot me his disapproving glance, to which I responded with my middle finger. Joe laughed and took a swig.

We kept walking around with Sam while he asked people if they'd seen a book. Naturally, nobody had. Eventually, Joe noticed that the village was awfully sparse. Sam shrugged and said "Well, yeah. There's a war going on." Joe and I looked at each other. Sam rolled his eyes, in that annoyed way he does. "Do you guys study at all?"

But before Sam could go on, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around to see two women, probably in their early twenties. Ordinarily, that's the kind of thing I'd like to see, but these chicks were no sight for sore eyes.

"Why are you men not in the war?" The taller, sicker-looking one asked us. "We need all the help we can get."

"Uh…well…" Joe began, but I jumped right in. "We came over from Transylvania to help with the war effort!"

Joe and Sam glared at me. What can I say? I love excitement, and I'm a sucker for a good war. So, anyway, that's how I got those nice ladies to direct us towards the campsite, which was a good few miles away.

Sure, it was a rather tense hike, but not nearly as painful as what we would find when we got there…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Aw, hell. I just couldn't leave this alone. The rating is subject to change. (In other words, I may feel like writing some sex. We'll see.)

I'd seen blood and injury before, but nothing like this. The sound of agonized screaming emanated from the first tent we approached. Sam flinched and cowered behind me, gripping my arm tightly.

I hope he didn't see what was inside the tent. I only saw a glimpse, and even that was pretty unsettling.

The screamer was a soldier sitting on a cot with his leg sticking out, all discolored and bumpy and oozing. Then the tent flap was pulled shut. His scream got louder, and then it was muffled. And we kept walking by. Joe didn't even turn his head.

As soon as the sickening noise could no longer be heard, Sam hurriedly let go of me. I didn't say anything, but I felt like maybe he shouldn't have pulled away. I kind of wanted to feel like I could protect him. We exchanged uncomfortable little grins and shook it off.

We were led to our tent, where a bunch of other guys were sitting around talking. We just sort of stood outside awkwardly, awaiting further instructions. We didn't really want to go in there. Sure, there were some guys around our age and even younger, but it wasn't like we had much in common.

A young woman shuffled over to us. She looked like she was around our age, but she sure as hell didn't look like any girl from school. Aside from the sword on her belt, she had that sort of tired look. Not just the sort of look you see in black-and-white photos of people from the past, but actual physical and emotional weariness. But she was pretty. She had very feminine features and a cute little nose.

Sam seemed to recognize her immediately and saluted her in greeting, and suddenly she was filled with energy. She gave Sam a curt nod. "Excellent. I am proud to see more young men fighting for France." With that, she marched past us. Joe and I stared after her, open-mouthed.

We didn't say anything for a few seconds, until finally Joe muttered "…Damn, was that Joan of Arc?" A moment passed and the three of us suddenly burst into laughter.

Sometimes, things get so ridiculous, you can't help but laugh.

She was back in a moment, shoving weapons and chain mail into our arms and telling us about the word of God. We put on the armor without complaining. Well, almost.

Sam was giving me the death glare.

Whatever, it didn't bother me.

Okay, so it bothered a little. I didn't mean to upset him; I was just making the best of the situation, lemons into lemonade.

So when Joan went back to the battlefield, I gestured to Joe and Sam. We dropped our armor to the ground and split.

"Well, -- that was-- a waste-- of time." Sam panted.

I just patted his back and didn't say anything while he took in deep, shuddering breaths. Sam's lack of athletic ability was usually at least a little funny, but now I was…what's that word? Concerned?

Joe was looking at me like I grew another arm out of my head. I immediately drew away from Sam and fixed my face. What the hell was happening to me?

I looked away from both of them. I kind of wanted to put my hand on Sam's back again because he was warm and I could feel him shaking and I wanted him to know that I cared. But I didn't touch him.

We sort of just kept moving until we stumbled into another village. It was getting dark. The whole way there, I was worrying about Sam and whether or not he was mad at me. Joe didn't even try to start a conversation; he could feel the tension between us. But I felt like maybe it was a good tension. Like Sam was still upset with me for being a jackass but he could tell I was worried about him.

Or maybe he could sense that other weird feeling I'd been trying to ignore.

A/N: TO BE CONTINUED SOON. SERIOUSLY. Sorry it took me so long last time. (I was gonna write some more here, but I don't want you guys to give up hope.)


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N: I moved things around so it doesn't feel so rushed. That's why I uploaded Chapter 2 twice. Sorry about that. I also apologize for the wait again. My mother has a new found love for online poker.)

* * *

So we went from door to door asking for a place to stay for the night. Only one family was actually willing to let us stay with them, and only if we slept in the barn. Okay, no problem. We just had to wait for something to happen, and then we'd find the book and go home. Just like always.

We sort of spread out in the barn, each of us choosing a corner in which to curl up. In the doorway I could hear Sam shrilly mumbling under his breath about germs and sickness and the plague. We all wandered off to different dark corners, to avoid a repeat of what happened that one morning in Italy. Shit, I've been trying to forget about that.

The three of us just sat in silence for, like, an hour, until I decided to venture over to Sam and talk to him about what happened. After thinking about it, I couldn't remember what it was that _had_ happened. Was it the incident earlier with the injured soldier that was bothering him? Was it the argument we had before the warp? Was it the fact that I _caused_ the warp in the first place?

I wasn't sure if he was asleep yet, so I tried to keep real quiet. He was all curled up in the hay with his face hidden by his elbow and his glasses on the ground beside him. Then I noticed he was trembling sort of. That…scared me, a little, but I also thought it was sort of…I don't know if there's one word for it. It was that weird familiar desire to protect him from everything terrible. I reached out and touched him gently. "Sam?"

I heard a sharp intake of breath before Sam moved his arm from his face and blinked at me slowly. "Sam? What's wrong?"

He didn't say anything for a minute. And then he just said, "I'm trying to sleep. It's too cold."

He was scared. He didn't need to tell me.

I didn't say anything else. I didn't even think about it that much. I just settled myself down and wrapped my arms around him.

* * *

I awoke the next morning to the sound of Joe's mocking voice. "Have a good night together, you two? All warm and snuggly?"

He nudged me with his foot until I opened bleary eyes. I looked up at Joe, and it clicked.

Oh. Joe just saw me spooning Sam. Well, shit.

I hastily scrambled away from Sam and brushed myself off, doing my best to look disgusted. I guess there was no getting out of it. Joe had seen us cuddling. At least it wasn't as embarrassing as that one time in Italy.

Sam, meanwhile, was yawning and stretching. Like he didn't know what was going on. "Come on, guys," he said with renewed optimism, "Let's find The Book and get out of here."

So, we went back into town to find The Book. It was kind of a mistake. But it seemed like a good idea, right? Where do you go to search for a book? You go where there are people around to read it. Not in the middle of a goddamn forest or something.

So anyway, guess who we met in the village? Ms. Fighting-for-France, walking around in a daze and talking to herself like a lunatic.

"You!" She pointed her finger at us accusingly. "They told me you would be here; they knew where to find you!" Clearly this woman was a few fries short of a deck of cards. Or whatever.

Sam tried to appeal to her reasonable side in that super smooth way he does. "Um, miss?"

Her nostrils flared. For such a young woman, she sure could act like an old hag.  
"You think you can run away, but never! You can never run from the lord!"

Turns out she was right. We couldn't run. She was pretty small, but very powerful. Quite frankly, she beat the shit out of us.

And by 'us' I mean me and Joe. Actually, I guess it was mostly me. Sam didn't even resist. Because he's Sam.

I'm not gonna go into all the nasty details, but it was bad. Joe got out of it okay because, according to Sam, he "knows when to back off". But I was kind of a busted-up mess. Joe said she kept hitting me even after I passed out. Like, not even my brother would beat me up that bad.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'Gee Fred, aren't you ashamed? You got pounded by a girl!' And I'd just like to remind you that this girl led the French army at age sixteen. So back off, alright?

Right so anyway, Joan brought us back to her campsite. I just sort of woke up in one of those little tents feeling sick and dizzy. My right eye was almost swollen shut where that bitch had hit me with the hilt of her sword.

So we had to go to debriefing or something. I'm not sure, I wasn't really listening. Everything was kind of hazy and out-of-focus in the eye I could see out of. Every now and then, Sam would lay his hand on top of mine.

* * *

(A/N: To be continued ASAP! Not promising anything, but I'll do my best! Maybe sex after Fred gets fixed up?)


	4. Chapter 4

(A/N: Fuck homework. And online poker. And getting really good reviews for dumb terrible fan fictions.)

(A/N part 2: And that's when sf realized she'd been writing this dumb terrible story for over a year. That's how much of a slacker she is.)

After debriefing, we didn't go to the battlefield. It wasn't an option, according to Joe. Well, obviously I was still willing to fight, but Sam was pretty tense. Like, more than usual.

So for his sake, we stayed out of the fight. Maybe it was for mine a little too, because fighting probably wasn't a good idea in my state. But mostly, Sam is a pussy.

Brief summary of my physical condition: sore, bruised all over, very sore, right eye swollen shut, really fucking sore. My left wrist wouldn't move at all and my right ankle wasn't feeling fantastic either.

But it turned out staying off the battlefield was a good decision. We ran off to the woods, although my running was more like a weird sort of limpy gallop at this point.

Joe and Sam helped me navigate the forest, which was way darker and blurrier than forests are supposed to be. I'm pretty sure we ran into someone there…yes, it was a gypsy lady or something. It was some old woman with a wagon full of stuff. I couldn't see much of her, but I could hear her beads and jewelry jingling.

Now, my memory's a little fuzzy here. I think Joan must've knocked my head pretty hard.

I can only assume this gypsy lady had the book, because after that, we went home.

So, yes, the gypsy must have had the book. Which was fortunate, because I don't know how much more adventure I could've handled. I'm pretty sure I passed out at some point mid-warp.

Anyway, next thing I remember after that green smoke cleared, I was sitting on Joe's bed and Sam was sitting beside me, holding a cold compress to my face. Remembering our uncomfortable situation back in the barn, I tried pull away from him. It hurt to move so fast, so I stopped.

"It's alright, Fred." He spoke softly; like he was afraid loud noise would hurt me. And it might have, actually, because I had a killer headache. He gently stroked the back of my neck with his other hand. Where was Joe? I didn't want him to see this.

I looked up at Sam and he made this really strange face at me that was really sort of cute. You know, in the weird, faggy kind of way. If I hadn't been so mixed-up, I would've probably made fun of him.

Or, well…maybe I wouldn't have. It's hard to say. Anyway, I didn't move from his arms. I couldn't have if I wanted to. But I didn't want to. His fingers on the back of my neck made me shiver. (I hoped he didn't notice. Shit, of course he noticed.)

Suddenly, I lurched out of my trance and abruptly connected our lips.

Sam seemed surprised, but he didn't pull away. Actually, he kissed back without hesitation. He let out a cute sort of whimper that turned into a happy sigh. It was all too obvious that I was his first kiss. My mouth smirked against his and I reached up to touch his face with my undamaged hand, holding myself up with the sore one.

He gave a pleasant tremble as my hand moved to his chest.

Then we both froze at the sound of footsteps outside the door.

* * *

Sam jumped away from me, redder than I'd ever seen him. Joe entered not a second later with a glass of water and a first-aid kit. He looked at Sam, who was blushing furiously, and then at me. Okay, so I was probably blushing, too. He didn't say anything, but I'm sure he was suspicious.

I stood up. "Uh, I really don't think all this is necessary. I'm fine." Joe chuckled. "Oh yeah? Have you seen yourself lately?"

"Um, no?"

"Let me tell you, dude, you look like shit." He handed me a pill and the water glass.

"Thanks."

Not long after, Sam suggested that we leave and walk back to his house together, which could only mean one thing: he wanted to have a 'talk'. I didn't especially want to discuss my feelings or our weird confusing relationship, but I went with him anyway, because Joe insisted.

"No, really, I think Sam's right, you guys should go. You've been fighting a lot; you should go work things out."

My mind was elsewhere at the time, but now that I think about it, Joe probably knew that something else was going on. Maybe he was okay with that something else going on or even wanted to encourage it? Maybe he and Sam had a huge serious bro-talk while I was out cold, and Sam genuinely wanted to fix things, if they were even broken. I'll ask Sam about it later, I guess.

* * *

Joe pushed us out the door in a bit of a hurry, saying something about how his dad would be home soon. Sam and I exchanged a look on the porch, and we walked off towards my house in silence. We made it a good four blocks before Sam tried to begin the inevitable mushy bromantic heart-to-heart with a hesitant "Can, uh, can we…talk?"

Smooth.

Clearly he was expecting me to start the discussion, which was funny, because he was initiating it. So I didn't say anything, I just watched him squirm for a while. And squirm he did.

"Uh, I was just thinking, maybe we should, you know, talk about…that _thing_ that happened."

I kept walking. "What about it?" I didn't look back at him. I wasn't just uncomfortable. I was REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. But the fact that he seemed more uncomfortable kind of made me feel better.

"Uh, I just…I think this…event kind of puts our, uh, _friendship_ in question."

He was worried about our friendship? I could have laughed out loud. But he went on.

"Actually, it kind of puts some other things in question, too…"

Here's where I said something stupid.

"Sam, look, I'm not gay."

I didn't even turn around or stop walking or anything.

"Okay." Sam replied with a snicker, moving forward so he was now walking even with me. "I suppose those moments we shared were merely spontaneous hormone-induced awareness lapses, right?"

"Uh…" Yikes. Suddenly the tables had turned, and now I was the awkward one. I could practically feel myself blushing. Damn.

"That's what I thought."

He stopped walking and opened the door for me. I was confused for a moment.

Oh. We were at his house. I'd been keeping my eyes on my feet the whole time.

(A/N: I honestly forgot where this story was going. WHAT HAPPENS AFTER SEXYTIMES? So if you have any suggestions on what should happen next, leave a review. Actually, leave a review anyway. THANKS.)


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